


The Curious Case of Cormag's Cute Kitten Companion

by taywen



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, Kittens, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times someone met Cormag's kitten. About as cracky as the title implies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Case of Cormag's Cute Kitten Companion

Natasha blinks when she happens upon the unexpected sight of Cormag sitting in the grass and- playing with a kitten.

"Good evening, Natasha," he says, giving her a rare smile. A moment later he's diverted again, making a game of rubbing the kitten's soft belly. The kitten seems to disapprove, if the swipes it makes at Cormag's battle-roughened hands are any indication.

"... Good evening, Cormag," Natasha answers belatedly, overcoming her surprise. "Isn't that-?"

"The kitten I asked you to heal a month ago?" Cormag finishes for her, grasping the scruff of its neck and standing up. "Yes, it is," he confirms, brushing dust and stray blades of grass off his clothes.

"I thought you told me you returned it to its mother..?" Natasha walks closer and reaches out tentatively. The kitten gazes up at her hand curiously and submits to a few careful pets without too much fuss.

"I did," Cormag says. "And then a couple of days ago, when we stopped for the night, this little guy showed up again. I searched as much as I could, but he wouldn't leave and I couldn't find his mom..." He shrugs. "Genarog doesn't have a problem with him, though, and he wouldn't stop meowing. I couldn't just leave him there, after he'd followed us all this way."

Natasha nods. "I suppose not," she agrees. "So, what's his name?"

Cormag looks momentarily thrown. He glances down at the kitten, who stares up at him with wide eyes. "I don't know."

"Well, we'll just have to think of one over dinner, won't we?" Natasha suggests, even as she recalls the reason she had sought Cormag out in the first place. "How does that sound, Mr. Kitty?" She smiles and pets the kitten again.

"I suppose," Cormag agrees, though he sounds dubious. "We had mousers in my hometown, but they never had names."

"I'm sure you don't need Mr. Kitty to take care of mice," Natasha replies, unconcerned. "They'd all be scared of Genarog anyway."

The wyvern in question gives a snort and resettles his leathery wings upon hearing his name.

"That's true." Cormag stoops and lets the kitten go. He twines himself around Cormag's ankles a few times before disappearing into the darkening evening. "Maybe he'll take care of some mice anyway," Cormag remarks.

"Then I suggest we occupy ourselves with our own dinner," Natasha says, smiling up at him. "Do you have any preference for names?" she adds, as they start towards the centre of the camp; due to Genarog's bulk and the general unease of most soldiers around wyverns, grounded or otherwise, Cormag is relegated to the outskirts of their camp.

"Glen," Cormag says, surprising both of them if the expression on his face is anything to go by.

"Not Mr. Kitty?" Natasha teases after a moment, before things can become awkward.

"Definitely not," Cormag says firmly. "No offense, Sister."

Natasha sniffs, feigning disdain. "You don't understand true genius."

Cormag looks at her, widening his eyes earnestly. It looks very strange, and Natasha has to stifle a giggle at the sight. "I'm jus' a humble farm boy, m'lady," he says, his slight Southern accent exaggerated to something nearly incomprehensible.

Natasha does giggle then, and every time she feels able to stop, she catches sight of Cormag's earnest expression, or he'll innocently inquire, "What's so funny, m'lady?" and she'll be off again.

"So," she says, after dinner, "Glen?"

Cormag glances down at his almost-empty plate. "Yeah, I guess that works," he mutters.

"He's your cat, Cormag. You can name him what you want," Natasha points out gently.

"No, I... I want to name him Glen," Cormag says. He pulls out a strip of cloth and wraps it around the piece of meat that he hadn't eaten. "You think he'll like this, Natasha?"

Natasha smiles at him. "I'm sure Glen will love it."

* * *

"Oh, it's your knight," Lute says, glancing up briefly before dismissing the fact from her mind and returning to her study of a rare tome they'd found in battle earlier that day.

Artur had taken a look at it himself, but it was an advanced form of anima magic which, despite Lute's tutoring, remained something of a mystery to him. It seemed to make her happy, though, and that was the important thing.

"My who- ah, Cormag," Artur says, smiling as the man walks up.

"Artur. Miss, uh-"

"Lute," she supplies, without looking up.

"Miss Lute." Cormag nods to her, but Lute doesn't notice.

"Is there a problem, Cormag?" Artur asks, noticing the unusual look on Cormag's face. It isn't strange to see him with a morose look on his face - Artur can only assume that he is lamenting the war, and Grado's fate - but it usually passes when he is in the company of a friend. Not so, today.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me... locate something that I seem to have misplaced," Cormag says vaguely. His gaze slides briefly to Lute, who is far too engrossed in her tome to care.

Artur tilts his head. Cormag is usually more straightforward. "Well, maybe we can go to the last place you remember having this object and we can retrace your steps?" he suggests, glancing at Lute. Perhaps Cormag wants to discuss something in private?

"Sure, that sounds good," Cormag agrees, looking relieved. "It's where I bedded Genarog for the night. Hey, and the two of you can catch up, I think he's been pining for you."

"Oh, dear- I hope-" Artur catches sight of Cormag's smile and realizes that the knight is teasing him. "Ah, of course."

The walk to the edge of the camp is a brief one - Lute doesn't like the bustle and din closer to the centre, so they usually set up their tents farther away.

Still, it seems longer, because of Cormag's tension. Every time Artur thinks about bringing it up, another soldier appears, and he keeps silent, in deference to Cormag's wish for privacy.

Genarog lifts his head when Artur walks up, one large reptilian eye staring at him.

"Ah, hello Genarog!" Artur raises a hand and pats the wyvern on the snout. Genarog huffs and licks his hand before resettling his head, though his gaze doesn't leave Artur.

"I think he likes you better," Cormag remarks, though he seems unconcerned.

"I'm sure that's not the case," Artur says, just to be certain that Cormag isn't upset. "He sees you more often, after all... He doesn't need to, ah, _pine_ for you, as it were."

Cormag's lips quirk upward. "Ha, that's true." Then his expression sobers and he crosses his arms over his chest. "So, the thing I lost was... Glen." He bites his lips, and Artur abruptly realizes that Cormag looks _worried_. It's not an expression he sees often on the knight's face.

But still- Glen. Artur knows that Glen was Cormag's older brother, and one of Grado's Six Imperial Generals; there's only Riev left, now. Artur doesn't know the circumstances - Cormag has never really spoken about it to Artur, but he can remember the fierce light in Cormag's eyes when he helped strike Valter down.

After that awful fight in the desert outside of Jehanna's palace, Cormag had remarked to Artur that he had avenged his brother's death, and never spoken of Glen again.

"... Glen?" Artur repeats carefully.

Cormag looks at him strangely. "Oh- Oh. No, I- I'm not talking about my brother," he says quickly. "I, uh, I found this kitten about a month ago, and got Natasha to heal him... And he's followed us ever since. I decided to name him Glen," he explains.

"Oh, I see," Artur says, feeling greatly relieved. "But now he's lost?"

"Yes," Cormag agrees. "I was going to ask Natasha if she knew any spells for finding lost things, but she's still busy with healing."

"But I'm afraid I don't know any spells for locating lost items," Artur says apologetically. "My studies have been based primarily on battle magic. I could ask Lute, but... I don't believe she's ever seen anything of the sort either."

Cormag looks crestfallen. "Natasha probably wouldn't either. She mostly uses staves, after all..."

"I can still help you search for Glen, though," Artur adds - he doesn't like seeing his friends upset.

"Thanks, Artur. You don't have to-"

"I would be happy to," he says firmly, before Cormag can finish speaking. "Now, I'm sorry to ask this but... did you see him after the battle today?"

"You think he might have been hurt in the battle?" Cormag's eyes widen, and he looks more panicked than Artur has ever seen before.

"It's a possibility," Artur says reluctantly.

"If he is- We have to hurry, Artur!" Cormag grabs his shoulders and gives the monk what he probably thinks is a gentle shake. Artur hears his teeth rattle together. "Your mage friend, she can use staves, right? She can heal him if he's hurt!"

"I'm sure she can," Artur agrees. Lute has just started using the heal staff, and delights in every opportunity to practice. She'd probably view healing a cat as an excellent experiment with the staff's limitations... If Glen _is_ hurt, Artur will have to try and keep the conversation off the topic of experiments; Cormag's upset enough as it is.

"Ok, let's go."

"Wait, so you haven't seen him since this morning?" Artur asks quickly.

Cormag stops midstride and thinks for a moment. "... Yes, I did see him after the battle. He was fine, then," he says, relaxing.

Artur breathes a sigh of relief. "That's great. So we know he isn't hurt, he's just not around right now..." He isn't that familiar with cats - there'd been a few strays around the village where he and Lute lived, but they would hiss whenever a person approached, and attempts to pet them usually resulted in mauled hands.

"Do you usually feed him, or does he feed himself? I'm just wondering, because maybe if we bring some food around, the scent will lure Glen out from wherever he is hiding. But if that's not the case, perhaps he's just having a tough time finding a meal tonight," Artur suggests.

"He usually feeds himself, but I do bring him leftovers from meals, when I have them," Cormag answers.

"Well, we can try the food idea now, anyway. The cooks are always trying to get me to eat more, I'm sure I can beg off some meat from them," Artur says. "Do you want to stay here in case he comes back, and I'll go get something?"

Cormag nods. "That sounds good. Seth came by earlier, and Glen disappeared pretty fast after that... Maybe he doesn't like strangers?"

"Did he like Natasha?" Artur asks, telling himself that his feelings are not hurt by a cat that he has not even laid eyes upon yet.

"I think so," Cormag says doubtfully.

"I'll go get that meat, anyway," Artur says, leaving behind a distracted Cormag. He can hear calls of 'Glen!' behind him.

When he returns about ten minutes later, with a respectable chunk of meat in hand, Cormag is rolling around in the grass with a scruffy little cat, laughing when the feline claws his hand.

Artur stares, not quite knowing what to make of this.

Genarog lifts his head again and gives Artur a look, as if to say, _can you believe this?_

Artur can't really believe it, despite witnessing it with his own eyes. "I brought... meat," he manages, after a few more moments of wordless staring. It's strangely... adorable.

Glen wriggles out of Cormag's hands and sidles up to Artur, wide-eyed as he approaches the monk. When Artur makes no move, Glen starts purring and rubbing against his ankles.

Artur notices that Glen's eyes seem to be on the meat in his hands.

"I think he likes you," Cormag says, following his cat over. There's grass in unlikely places, and his light hair is sticking up even more crazily than usual, which is saying something considering he has chronic helmet hair.

"I think he likes the meat I'm holding," Artur answers, kneeling carefully to offer the morsel to Glen.

Glen snatches it out of his hands and bounds away to wrestle with it. The meat is almost bigger than the kitten himself - Artur was expecting something closer in size to a fully grown cat.

"That's practically the same thing," Cormag says, patting him on the shoulder with his unharmed hand.

"Your hand's bleeding," Artur points out.

"Ah, it'll close," Cormag says dismissively.

Artur shakes his head, mystified.

* * *

Despite the stilted formality that had characterized their first conversation, Seth had not been exaggerating when he'd told Cormag that he seemed like the type of man who would not accept failure.

Seth was gratified to find that that was indeed the case - while Seth had won their first bout of sparring, not long after Cormag had first joined their army, the score was even between them now.

Seth has found himself looking forward to the rare times when he and Cormag have the chance to spar - there is no need to hold back, as he does with Eirika (though she tells him not to, Seth finds himself hesitating to use his full strength even though he knows their enemies will have no such compunctions) and their skills are more evenly matched than when he pits himself against Franz. That is no reflection on Franz' abilities - he has come a long way since they first fled to Frelia, but Franz favours the sword and Seth prefers the lance.

"You seem distracted," Seth remarks this morning, dodging Cormag's slash.

"Do I?" Cormag raises his eyebrows and drives Seth back several steps with a particularly fast and strong series of strikes.

"Yes, you do," Seth says calmly. "If there's somewhere you'd rather be, please don't hold yourself back on my account." He locks their lances together, leaning his weight behind his weapon. He wonders who is the stronger, Cormag or himself.

"You know, I never would have expected someone like you to have a sense of humour," Cormag retorts, grinning even as he twists his lance and sends Seth staggering, off-balance.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Seth says drily, blocking Cormag's attempt to sweep his feet out from under him.

"You should," Cormag answers with mock gravity.

They exchange blows in silence for several minutes, before Seth manages to knock Cormag onto his back.

"All right, you win this one," Cormag says, brushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

Seth inclines his head and reaches a hand out for Cormag to pull himself to his feet.

"Thanks- Glen, no!" Cormag suddenly shouts, even as Seth sees something grey streak out the underbrush towards him.

It's a cat, Seth realizes, when the thing latches onto his ankle and starts clawing with great prejudice.

"Don't hurt him!" Cormag shouts, and Seth isn't sure if he's talking to the cat (Glen?) or the paladin himself.

Cormag hurries over and pulls the furiously spitting kitten away from Seth's leg. "It's ok, Glen, we were just practicing," Cormag says soothingly, petting the thing's head softly.

"You have a cat," Seth says, aware that he's stating the obvious but also too flummoxed to do anything about it.

"This is Glen." Cormag holds it - him - up, his grip firm enough so that the kitten can't escape and try to claw Seth's face.

Seth appreciates that. "Hello, Glen," he says cautiously, reaching out.

Glen claws at the air in front of him, hissing.

"Glen, this is Seth. Be nice," Cormag says seriously. Glen rakes his claws over the back of Cormag's hand before settling.

Seth doesn't know what to think about the whole thing. "Where did you find this cat, Cormag?" he asks.

"I saved him from some enemy soldiers who were picking on him," Cormag explains. "Natasha healed him, and I returned him to his mom, but then he followed us. I figured he wouldn't take no for an answer, so I decided to take him with us."

Seth nods. "It's fortunate that you were there, and that you got him to Natasha in time." He doesn't ask about the choice to name the cat after his older brother. He thinks that it's a good thing that he'd been wearing his greaves - Glen had spent most of his time trying to maul the armour, thankfully.

"Yeah, it was," Cormag agrees, placing the cat in the pouch at his belt. Seth had noticed it earlier, but it wasn't that strange to see a soldier with a pouch at his belt, even if Cormag himself usually stored his supplies in Genarog's saddlebags.

"Lute made me this bag," Cormag adds, apparently noticing Seth's gaze.

"Lute?" Seth repeats, confused. He's spoken no more than a few words with the prodigy; she always seemed more interested in her studies than other people. Therefore, he finds it rather strange that someone so unconcerned with human relations should create a sack for a cat that seems attached to someone she barely knows.

Cormag nods.

"I see," Seth says, even though he really doesn't see.

"Well, shall we go to breakfast?" Cormag asks a few moments later.

"Yes, let's," Seth agrees, perhaps too eagerly - he's hoping that this incident will make more sense (or perhaps be some fever dream) in the company of their comrades - but Cormag seems not to notice.

They fall into step, though Glen hisses when Seth walks on the same side as his pouch.

Seth moves to Cormag's other side, deciding not to press his luck.

* * *

Innes insists upon tagging along when Tana goes to speak with Cormag today. He doesn't say as much, but Tana can read it in the tightness of his expression - he does not exactly trust the wyvern knight. But whether it is because Tana has vouched for him or because Eirika has - Tana suspects the latter - her brother never voices his doubts.

"Oh, Princess- Prince." Cormag offers a bow to Innes, something he hasn't done since the first time he and Tana had spoken off of the battlefield. She'd asked him not to.

"We're here to discuss-" Innes pauses, narrowing his eyes. "Do you hear... a humming sound?" Innes asks slowly, peering around suspiciously.

Tana looks around as well, but Glen is nowhere in sight. Still, she can hear a faint purring sound, and if she's not mistaken it's coming from Cormag's direction... She glances at Cormag; his eyes crinkle upwards at the corners when she catches his gaze, the only outward sign of his amusement.

"Well?" Innes says impatiently. "Can you hear it, Tana? Cormag?"

"I don't hear anything, brother," Tana says, winking at Cormag before turning to her brother with a look of innocence on her face.

"Nor me, Highness," Cormag adds gravely. He has a deep voice, and his accent makes everything sound serious and convincing.

Innes purses his lips. "No matter," he mutters. "As I was saying, we're here to discuss strategy for the upcoming battle, Cormag."

"I see. What did you have in mind, Your Highness?"

Innes has a distracted look on his face. "Can the two of you truly not-?"

"Nothing, Innes, really," Tana says, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking.

Cormag shakes his head wordlessly. Tana has to look away from the grave expression on his face to keep from laughing.

"I think it would be to your mutual advantage if you could work out a means to signal me if you spot any archers. I'd be the superior marksman, of course; should I see them, it would be a simple matter to eliminate the threat to you," Innes explains coolly. His gaze sweeps the clearing once more, as if trying to locate the source of the sound only he can hear.

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Your Highness," Cormag says calmly. "Princess Tana and I have already worked out a way to alert each other when we spot an archer, as it happens."

"Yes," Tana agrees. "Achaeus will neigh or Genarog will shriek if they spot an archer."

"That sounds sufficient," Innes says, with a short nod. "Well, Tana, we must go discuss other matters with the twins, now," he adds, coolly imperious.

"In a moment," Tana says. She knows that discussing other matters with the twins will probably result in her and Eirika commiserating about the competitiveness of their brothers as they watch Innes and Ephraim argue about something or other.

Innes casts the pair of them a suspicious glance, then strides away with intent.

Cormag raises his eyebrows at her. "Is there something else you wanted to discuss with me, Princess?" he asks.

"Yes... How's Glen?"

The feline in question pops his head out of the pouch on Cormag's belt, ears pricked at the mention of his name.

Tana laughs, and a moment later, Cormag joins in.

* * *

"I miss Glen," Cormag remarks the night after they re-enter Grado.

Duessel and Cormag are sitting on opposite sides of the fire, alone for the moment. Knoll, Amelia and Natasha had eaten with them earlier, but the rest of the men kept their distance. Knoll had disappeared immediately after the meal, making some arcane excuse; Natasha and Amelia left a while later, Natasha to go check on the wounded and Amelia to keep her company.

Duessel glances at his companion, unable to conceal his surprise. After he got the story from Cormag - he'd been surprised that the young man was travelling with Princess Eirika's army - they hadn't spoken about Glen since.

"I miss him too," Duessel agrees. Glen is the only one of his fellow generals that Duessel had no hand in killing whatsoever, though Duessel only regrets helping to kill Selena; Valter, Riev and Caellach all had it coming, as far as he is concerned.

Cormag nods, staring into the fire. "I mean, he was kind of stuck up sometimes. And he was always trying to fight my battles for me."

Glen always had struck Duessel as the overprotective brother type. As Duessel had suspected, he must have calmed down by the time the brothers climbed the ranks and met Duessel.

Cormag chuckles. "This one time, the new recruit managed to spill a bucket of water on him. He was furious, yowling and hissing like it was the end of the world..." Before Duessel has time to process those words - Glen hadn't seemed like an unreasonable sort of commanding officer - Cormag's slight smile fades. "And now he's gone."

"His memory will always be with you," Duessel offers.

Cormag shoots his a look, like he knows that Duessel is just repeating the lines he has said to countless grieving soldiers. The words are not insincere, but Duessel is not a great speaker, at least not on the subject of mourning.

"It was nice, you know, having him in my tent at night. I mean, Genarog was always around, so there was him, but... Glen was different."

Duessel frowns. Well, they were very close, even for siblings... But no, he concludes, Cormag's words do not make any more sense the longer he tries to figure them out.

Cormag's expression has faded to wistfulness when Duessel looks over.

Uncertain of what the proper response to his statement would be - assuming such a thing existed in the first place -Duessel raises his mug of ale to his lips to take a swig. He'll probably need it to cope with the decidedly strange turn this conversation has taken.

"I could hold him. It's not the same with Genarog. That's it," Cormag says abruptly, with the air of someone experiencing epiphany.

Duessel chokes.

Siblings can be very close, Duessel tries to tell himself desperately. But then why is Cormag comparing Glen to Genarog-? The more he thinks about it, the worse it seems. Duessel does not consider himself an intolerant individual but surely this crosses some sort of line-?! And for Cormag to think nothing was wrong-

"Glen!" Cormag cries, bounding to his feet with an energy that Duessel would not have imagined the tired, wistful man of mere moments earlier to possess. The bowl and spoon that had previously been perched on his bent knees clatter to the ground; Cormag pays them no mind as he rushes around the fire, falling to his knees beside Duessel.

What on earth, Duessel thinks wildly, is going on?

"You came back!" Cormag continues jubilantly, looking happier than Duessel can remember seeing in a while. His gaze is focussed on something behind Duessel.

The general stiffens, his hand dropping to the haft of his axe as several scenarios run through his mind; none of them end happily. At best, Cormag is hallucinating; at worst, a revenant wearing Glen's face - or some semblance of it - has appeared.

Something meows loudly from behind him.

"Duessel, look!" Cormag says, scooping up a scruffy grey cat in his arms. "Glen came back!"

"Wait," Duessel says. "Glen is a cat? I thought he was your brother."

"Of course Glen is my brother. And this is Glen the cat. Oh- but you haven't actually met him, have you?" Cormag frowns at him, but the expression soon fades as he pets Glen (the cat).

Duessel doesn't know what to believe anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I know next to nothing about cats, so please forgive any/all inaccuracies regarding Cormag's Kitten. 8D
> 
> There is also a more serious snippet of Duessel, Cormag and Amelia returning to Grado. It was originally going to be the last section, but it was really angsty and the cute just wasn't happening, so it got cut. But if you are interested, please check it out! :D


End file.
